


This Is Terra

by Sister of Silence (EmpressofMankind)



Series: An Age of Heroes [11]
Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Drama, Foreshadowing, Gen, Horus Heresy, Imperial Palace, Primarchs, blatant murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 04:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressofMankind/pseuds/Sister%20of%20Silence
Summary: There were many small events that precipitated the Horus Heresy but what transpired that day atop Mt. Rakaposhi in the shadow of the Gates of Unity was pivotal: it was this moment which decided the fate of billions and greased the gears of war.





	This Is Terra

They walked out from under the Gates of Unity and onto the high terrace atop mt. Rakaposhi in silence. The colonnaded terrace followed the horseshoe-shape of the plateau it was built upon; framing in soaring, Corinthian splendour, the grand view of the _via imperialis_ as it climbed to the Lions’ Gate. Though the sun shone, snow covered the ancient peak. White flakes drifted like feathery down where their ceramite boots stirred it, the sunlight glinting off of their crystalline shapes. The ever-blowing winds were quiet today and in their wake the clatter of water could be heard. For from beneath the plateau they stood upon sprang the last flowing river of Terra to its terminal springs within the Tranquil Courts hundreds of metres below.  
  
Captain Odian Ariti of the Sons of Horus was neither slight of frame nor timid of nature but he walked in Hetaeron Prefect Arlette Augusta Amon’s shadow as surely as he would in his Primarch’s. He kept a close pace behind the towering Tribune, keenly aware of the cordon of Hetairoi at their heels. Of all the Legio Custodes cohorts, Ariti found the Emperor’s stolid companions the most unknowable. Never did they patrol the massive courtines of the Imperial Palace proper. Never did they join the Legionnes Astartes. Never did they stray far from His side. Which meant He was here, nearby, this very moment. And while, allegedly, they were 299 strong at all times, they had one weakness: they followed their Prefect’s directions unquestioningly. The siege would be over before it began if she could be swayed. It wouldn’t be the first time in history an empire was toppled in such a fashion.  
  
They approached the low balustrade that skirted the plateau, the delicate gold veins in its pale marble winking in the bright, afternoon sun, as he pleaded his case once more. “The odds are against you. Every day, more join our cause. Horus’ brothers stand with him,” Ariti asserted.  
  
“Not all his brothers,” Rogal Dorn observed in his usual stoic fashion. The Primarch had been at the Prefect’s side when Ariti had met with her, whether by design or some unhappy coincidence he could not tell. At first Ariti had thought he’d been another Tribune, the Primarch’s mesmerising auric plate as intricate and finely crafted as theirs. He was taller than her but only just that he must gaze down to look her in the eyes. They’d been in a curt discussion that had taken Ariti three increasingly loud coughs to interrupt.  
  
“Most,” Ariti recovered. The Primarch made no further comment. The Prefect’s expression, too, was inscrutable. Despite their similar wargear, they could not look more different. Where the Primarch’s complexion was all hard angles and pale as the snow around them, the Prefect’s was dark and rounded as the venerable peaks cradling the Imperial Palace. And yet, they fixed him with uncannily similar green eyes. He swept out an arm at the vista before them and the gleaming megalopolis below. “They do not need to die - and they won’t, if you surrender,” he promised as he met her unflinching gaze. It unnerved him how little she blinked but he pushed the discomfort aside. He glanced at Dorn for an instant. “And you, and the false Emperor.”  
  
Swift as the lightning bolt carved on her breastplate, Amon drew one of her twin force gladii from its scabbard. Its tip was at the Astartes’ throat in the span of a heartbeat. A wave of clicks and static crackle rolled around the terrace and up between the peaks as guardian spears were activated. Dorn’s arms remained crossed but Ariti was under no illusion that they couldn’t draw the massive chainsword mag-locked to his armour just as fast, should he wish to.  
  
“No one threatens a messenger,” Ariti exclaimed in shock as he backed up towards the low balustrade. “Oath-breaker!”  
  
Amon’s gaze hardened. She didn’t so much as follow him as extend her arm further, to maintain her blade’s tip at the seam of his gorget. “You come here, pleading peace, but Horus desires dominion, demands submission and the enslavement of Humanity to his whim. I know what abomination wears his skin, captain. It fools me not. How dare you come here and insult my Emperor. Threaten the people you and I have _both_ sworn to shield against the darkness. Who breaks the more precious oath here, captain, you or I?”  
  
“The Warmaster’s forces are legion!” Ariti’s gaze jumped from the Prefect to the Primarch and back. “You cannot hope to win! This is madness!”  
  
“Madness..?” Amon wondered. Her gladius lowered as her gaze moved across the captain’s shoulder to the unsuspecting billions in the megalopolis below, going about their day like any other. Who would protect these people, if not them? Was it madness to dedicate oneself to their safety, against all odds? Ariti had spoken no lies, she knew some of Horus’ brothers, even now, made their way to his side. Not all, perhaps. But many. Enough. The Emperor knew it, too.  
  
Rogal Dorn straightened when her eyes came to rest on him. Their gazes crossed. And in that instant, perhaps for the first time, they understood each other. This was it: the moment which would decide the fate of billions, that would grease the gears of war. Dorn nodded in agreement, the faintest of movements. Amon gritted her teeth in frustrated rage. Perhaps, their odds were hopeless. Perhaps, their ideals were nought but a dream. But she and Him, they had done this before. Long ago, at the mouth of another narrow passage, in the presence of different sulphur springs. They could do it again.  
  
“Madness?” she repeated as she turned to Ariti. Her gladius held low, her green eyes lethal. She leapt onto her back foot, her speed belying her cumbersome plate. “This. Is. TERRA!” she roared. Her boot struck the Captain square in the chest, shattering his ceramite armour on impact and blasting him clean across the balustrade.  
  
She watched him as he plummeted down the unassailable cliff, his scream lingering among the peaks like a bad omen. Her gilded gauntlets grasped the railing in a vice grip, her voice little more than a whisper on the wind. A promise.  
  
“It will _not_ fall.”

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of time and hard work went into the creation and publication of this story and as such, it is very dear to me. I would love to hear what you thought of it! And please, share this story freely but credit me and link back to me. Thank you!


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